


mr.mercury

by zephyriaus (avsivn)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avsivn/pseuds/zephyriaus
Summary: an account of your most memorable encounters with mr. mercury | rami malek! freddie mercury x makeup artist! reader





	mr.mercury

Freddie Mercury. The accounts of his hedonistic ideals were undoubtedly famous. Some could arguably say, more so than him. At least, when it came to the rumors circulated among tour personnel. It was difficult to decipher which was fact from fiction, yet, you found it wiser to spare yourself from the details.

After all, life ran much smoother on tour so long as you reduced direct contact with the merchandise.

Regardless, even if you possessed the strong desire not to cross paths with the singer, your occupation as a stylist for the band’s tour prevented even the slightest possibility of that not occurring.

The meeting came much sooner than you expected. It was the band’s North American leg of their highly anticipated “The Game” world tour. Given Queen’s tight schedule and budget, the North American leg of their album tour started much earlier than expected with the prominent elements of ill preparation and tardiness capably rupturing creaks and crevices in the starboard of a ship’s voyage that was still drifting the shallow seas of the mainland. The costumes and makeup department was worst off. Understaffed, disorganized and bustling, your fellow coworkers attempted to fulfill the roles of at least three other employees just in time for the first few shows as the designated workforce in England got their paperwork properly in order to arrive in America during the next week.

Inevitably, as one of the few individuals slightly more knowledgeable than the average woman when it came to hair and makeup, you were tasked with the sole duty of taking care of the appearance of the one and only Freddie Mercury.

You recognized him as soon as he entered the room. Spouting an infamous smirk plastered upon a charming face, his wide eyes glimmered with eccentricity as predatory orbs took in each and every individual within the room - man and woman.

He slithered his way to your unoccupied section, a silk robe wrapped over his torso shielding his scantily clad body underneath, gracefully stretching upon the cheap leather with legs spread in an openly inviting manner. You could see where his reputation arose from. Freddie Mercury resonated enough sensual charisma and sexual energy to make him a potential incubus.

As you approached, you could hear him almost purring his flirtations to the woman at work next to him. His band member, Brian, lounged in the nearby chair, half of his hair still to become undone from his perm curlers, merely resigning in mild irritation as he witnessed his band mate’s antics.

Sighing, you wearily interrupted his actions.

“Mr. Mercury, I would appreciate it if you sat properly before I start getting you ready for the concert.”

The woman, Marie you believed her name was, set her lips in the typical contemptuous manner, scorning at your intrusion but continuing her work upon Brian’s hair nonetheless. Freddie, surprisingly obeyed, pulling himself up in his chair, carefully focusing all of his attention on you.

“Whatever you say, darling.” 

A faint lilt danced upon his tongue as the words fell from his lips.

~

“Are you certain that there isn’t anyone else available?”

“Special request Y/N. Not necessarily one I have the authority to deny.”

You sighed. Technically, you were in fact, a seamstress, hired to design the clothes and reside in the background. Certainly not a certified makeup artist no matter how professional your work looked in the first few shows.

Freddie waited at the same spot as usual. Jaded eyes drifting among the passing crew members until he finally spotted you, the trademark smirk making its way to his face. It was a habit of the man by now – blatantly refusing the service of any other makeup artist unless it was you.

~

Then, there came a day when he actually struck up a conversation, sparing the minor flirtatious remarks he would aim in your direction. You had been placing the finishing touches upon his face, lining the edges of his eyelids with kohl.

Examining the intricate details of your loose flower embroidered sleeves, he openly voiced his thoughts.

“Now, dear, a pretty face such as yours must have a pretty name.”

Eyebrows scrunched slightly, you debated upon your answer. Rule two of the band and tour personnel regulation came to your mind.

“And a pretty person like I, doesn’t wish to tell you my pretty name.”

You spared dusting some more particles of foundation upon his dusky skin, accentuating his feline appearance.

“Even if it could score a pretty chance with this lovely specimen of a man?”

You raised an eyebrow at the typical answer.

“Even if it could score a pretty chance with a rather repulsive specimen of a man, yes”

Freddie was indeed meant to be placed upon a pedestal – in his own museum display. He grinned as your fingertips gently grazed balm upon the surface of his lips. Playfully, he passed his tongue over one before you could think of retracting them, tasting the cherry flavor. The subtle lewd undertones of his actions surprised you and somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to break the eye contact you both shared in that single moment.

“Then,” he mused, eyes dark and glinting with mischief, “I’ll have to give you my own pretty name to do yourself justice wouldn’t I?”

~ 

It was the beginning of another routine. The frequent presence of questions he asked to know you better. The randomness of his questions merely bolstering in depth as interest was shown discovering all about every aspect of your life. The ambiguity of your answers prompting him even more

“What is something you’d like to do the old-fashioned way?”

“What’s the one thing every woman appreciates if it’s done the old-fashioned way?” You asked in turn, suppressing a shy smile.

Soft laughter fell from his lips, traces of endearment laced within his words.

“You certainly are a romantic, aren’t you, Fawcett?”

And, for the first time in all of your exchanges with the man, you averted your eyes and dared to blush.

~

Faint tendrils of smoke curled its way in the air as you shuffled your way through the alleyway, your head dizzy from the drinks you had before. Odd. You ensured that you ordered the virgin kind.

“Isn’t that a pretty picture?”

You grudgingly turned your attention to the voice behind you.

“Seems like we have a lucky night ahead boys”

Groaning, you cursed your luck. Of course, it had to be that annoying twat, Kevin, from the lighting department, along with his two cronies. You cursed your luck.

One of them launched themselves upon you, taking advantage of your momentary shock to yank the hem of your dress. Struggling, you attempted to push him off, only for the other two to hold you down, one of them audaciously slapping you in the face.

Close to tears, you fruitlessly attempted to stop them from fulfilling their intent, thrashing against their grips.

“I believe you had enough fun for tonight lads.”

It was the first time you actually viewed Freddie as your savior. It was such a cliché and even humiliating for you to be the one in this situation. Yet, it meant the world.

He made a quick work of them, throwing a heavy blow straight on Kevin’s nose whilst proceeding to kick another in the nuts. You cringed as the third one landed a heavy punch in his gut. The action snapped the sense out of his head as his forehead slammed against the alley’s brick wall, a heavy rather prominent bruise already starting to form on the side of his head.

Infuriated, you picked up the steel bar lying on the ground making a heavy thump upon the back of the assailant’s shoulders. The trio retreated, blood dripping from one of their noses as the other grabbed between his pants whilst simultaneously aiding his hunched over partner, a string of curses let loose in their wake.

The metal clanged forgotten onto the cement as you headed to Freddie’s side, gently examining the red marks that started to surface upon his temple. Naturally, the singer regarded your tentative movements with a playful expression, amused at you frowning expression.

“Don’t be too full of yourself. I’m only taking note of how much work I have to put in tomorrow.”

He laughed, wincing a bit as he gripped his torso. “Whatever you say darling.”

At least there wouldn’t be any tights the next day. Fewer distractions.

You fingers still rested upon the side of his face, lightly threading your fingers over the soft strands of his hair.

“You’ll need to put some ice on that.”

His eyes soften at the gesture. “I’m fit enough to take care of that myself, Fawcett. Just ensure you get yourself back safely.”

Somehow, you didn’t want him to leave.

“It’s not quite courteous for you to leave a lady to find her way alone. Wouldn’t a proper gentleman usually walk her to the door?”

For the first time, you witnessed as his lips turned upward to form a genuine soft smile.

“Of course he would, dear”

~

“Thank you, Freddie.”

His comeback was ever more cocky, as per usually to expected. “I’m only a gentleman, darling. Courteousness is simply part of my nature”

You inwardly scoffed at his remark. You broke your third rule, yet, that didn’t even matter. His actions did. It was the first time you ever called him by his name and the intimacy attached to it was liberating. Confines broke free for a split second and within those moments you both weren’t in a working relationship, but two acquaintances walking side by side in solitude underneath the night sky as the chilly zephyrs blew.

Pausing at the entry of your tour bus, he stopped you.

“Wouldn’t it be proper for a lady to bid adieu to her counterpart with a good night kiss?”

Damn him. You didn’t have to look to realize he was smirking. The challenge itself was distinctly imbedded in his brazen statement.

Eyes lowered, he looked at you with his milky brown orbs, glazed with sleepiness and mischief. Moving closer, you could smell his natural musk overlay with a hint of aftershave. Soft breaths were expelled deeply onto your exposed collarbones and you struggled to resist shuddering at the mere closeness you both shared in the open parking lot behind the stadium.

It was during those moments whereby you felt reduced to the state of a teenager sharing her first kiss with her hardcore crush. Only it was you and Freddie Mercury - the affair purely scandalous in nature more than anything else.

The act was short and sweet as you placed a fleeting peck just at the side of his lips, the tickling brush of his moustache still lingering on the surface of your sensitive skin.

Quickly, you all but vanished from his side carrying yourself with as much grace in your movements as you could muster in your overly tipsy state to the interior of your makeshift mobile room. Turning to have one last look at his face, you muttered a fare well, cloaking yourself in the darkness of the closed bus to conceal the rosy tint that crept upon your cheeks. Whispering to the void, you repeated your last words and reminisced on your actions, just hoping for a certain something to happen as an outcome.

“Good night, Mr. Mercury.”


End file.
